


safety in the shadows

by pyrrhic_victory



Series: dangerous sentiments [10]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Addiction, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s03e22 Explorers, Genetic Engineering, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Julian's issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, Recovery, Secret Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Trauma, tw: Julian's awful parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23785549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrrhic_victory/pseuds/pyrrhic_victory
Summary: Julian's insecurities rise as his old medical school rival is due to dock on Deep Space Nine; Garak tries to put his life back together after The Die Is Cast.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: dangerous sentiments [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1576258
Comments: 36
Kudos: 214





	1. Chapter 1

“So, Constable. How goes the battle for truth and justice?” 

Odo settled stiffly in the chair opposite Garak and raised a brow. What passed for a brow, anyway. 

“It’s going fine, thank you, Garak,” he sarcastically said. They were eating breakfast. Well, Garak was eating breakfast. Odo was watching him while also keeping a weather eye on the comings and goings on the Promenade. 

“I do recall Quark babbling about a confiscated shipment of Romulan ale last night.” 

“If Quark doesn’t want his merchandise confiscated, then he should start dealing in legal merchandise.” 

“Ah, but then what would you do with your time?” 

“I’d be able to keep a closer eye on the other criminals around the station,” Odo said, with a pointed look at Garak. 

“Why, I had no idea Deep Space Nine had such a dark underbelly. You must be doing a remarkable job keeping the more unsavoury elements of station life under control.” 

“Some people require constant monitoring to keep them out of trouble.”

“Like Quark, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

“And I’m almost certain the perfumist on the other side of the promenade has connections to-” Garak leaned forwards surreptitiously and lowered his voice- _“the Orion Syndicate._ ” 

Odo was not impressed. “Katha Moryn is 93 years old.” 

“Age guarantees nothing but experience.”

“It certainly doesn’t guarantee wisdom. It’s older people who seem to think their _experience_ renders them immune from the consequences of breaking the law.” He gave Garak another hard look. 

“Really? I’ve always found the youth cling far more readily to the delusion of invulnerability, even in the face of overwhelming odds.” 

Speaking of overwhelming, he had a lot of work to do in his shop. 

Chief O’Brien came by to fix the ODN conduit a few days ago. Then there were the doors, the replicator, the environmental controls and the lights to repair, not to mention the torn bulkheads. 

Then Garak himself had to replace the furniture, several of his tools and almost an entire stock of clothing and fabrics. 

All in all, so overwhelming as to seem impossible. 

While the Chief and an engineering ensign worked on the doors, Garak swept broken glass across the floor into a pile like raking leaves.

This felt more like gardening than anything. Weeding, specifically. That had always been his favourite part. It’s what he was designed for. Clinical cruelty. Cold precision. Ripping things out of the ground that didn’t belong, in order to let better things grow. 

It had been so long since he’d breathed real air. Months now, since the mission to Cardassia. Years since he’d had the chance to touch real soil, to change the ground beneath him in a way that mattered. Maybe he never would again. 

A long shard of glass flashed at him from the floor and he trod on it to quell the urge to pick it up and use it, crunching it into pieces beneath his heel. 

He had always been a weed. An ugly one. A useful one, good for strangling the other weeds when they got out of line. But a weed nonetheless; something to be beaten back and cut away and controlled. Nothing he did was good enough to disguise that. 

“Not anymore,” he had to remind himself. He didn’t have to measure up to the standards of a dead man. 

The only people he had to keep happy at present were the Bajoran tax authorities and Julian Bashir. 

(And Odo, he supposed, since the Constable had kindly kept the nastier details of their adventure together to himself. If he hadn’t, Garak had no doubt he would have been swiftly ejected from the station and left to fend for himself against every single one of his enemies, including the Cardassian government.)

In the spirit of keeping Julian happy, at least, he was humouring the doctor’s attempts to improve his mood. Julian had given him some medication to try, which was supposed to level out the chemicals in his brain. 

Privately, Garak was aware that his psychological problems went a little deeper than exile and imbalanced brain chemistry, but he wasn’t going to tell Julian that. If Julian still had reason to believe he could be fixed, Garak wasn’t going to disappoint him by telling him otherwise until it was absolutely necessary. 

“That’s about all we can do for today,” Chief O’Brien announced in the evening. He and the ensign had fully removed the broken doors and were working on repairing the inner mechanism.

Garak realised it was well past the end of Julian’s shift, and he’d been working for hours. Julian was probably in Quark’s by now. He usually was, if Chief O’Brien was due to head across. 

When was the last time he’d had something to drink? The night he’d completely lost his mind over Tain and nearly poisoned himself with it. Right. That was the main reason he was supposed to be avoiding kanar for a while. 

(They’d had a very uncomfortable conversation about _that_ the day after his last breakdown.) 

So while Julian was doing whatever he did when he was in Quark’s, Garak was here, still working, and _not_ thinking about alcohol. Not even a little bit. 

And he couldn’t hurt himself, because Julian would see, Julian would have to clean up his mess, again. Garak was sick of himself. If he kept on like that, Julian would finally get sick of him, too. 

That thought was one he’d rather bury, and what he usually did when he wanted to bury a thought was distract himself with something else. 

Like drinking. 

Which he couldn’t do. 

Or hurting himself. 

Which he couldn’t do. 

He groaned and threw a piece of torn bulkhead rather forcefully into the skip in the corner. All he wanted was to be able to go about his day without a constant craving telling him to do this or that to make the emptiness feel less intolerable. 

The medication clearly hadn’t taken effect yet. How long was it supposed to take? Julian said _weeks_. 

Maybe he should just go to Quark’s and have a rokassa juice and pretend that’s all he wanted. It would be better for him than lurking in the shadows here feeling sorry for himself. 

He did lurk in the shadows there, too, but that was more out of instinct than depression. He entered on the upper level so he could get a good look at the crowd, and spotted Julian at the bar. One of the dabo girls saw him and approached. Leeta, Garak thought her name was. 

“Excuse me.” Julian looked up from his reading to see Leeta standing quite close to him. “You’re Dr Bashir, aren’t you?

“That’s right.”

“I’m Leeta,” she introduced herself. “I’ve been meaning to come by the infirmary to see you.” 

She made a very deliberate, very fake cough. 

_Aha,_ Garak thought. _Interesting._

He slid deeper into the shadows and watched. 

***

One of the many disadvantages to being in a secret relationship was that Julian still occasionally got suggestive comments and had no idea how to respond. Every other relationship on the station was inevitably fed through the gossip mill in 3-5 business days, while his had gone on for over a year and he was still fielding off unwanted attention. 

Well, not unwanted, exactly. Flattering, certainly. And Leeta was very beautiful and seemed quite sweet. But that wasn’t exactly the problem here. 

“Is it serious, doctor?” Leeta asked. 

“No, but it’s a good thing you came to me when you did. I- um, think you’d better come to the infirmary tomorrow, Leeta, just to be on the safe side.” 

“Oh. I see.” She leaned closer, trying to communicate even more obviously what she was trying to do in case it had somehow escaped Julian’s attention. 

He wondered if Garak ever got this problem. 

“Julian,” Dax slid into view and Julian breathed an audible sigh of relief as an escape plan began to form in his head. 

“Hi. Uh, Leeta, have you met Lieutenant Dax?”

“Hi! Jadzia, please.” Dax held out her hand for Leeta to shake, fixing her with a confident, friendly stare. 

“Before I forget...here’s that immunological data you asked for,” Julian said, typing out a brief message of HELP on his padd before handing it over to her. 

Dax read it, raised her eyebrows and slipped it behind her back. 

“How nice of you to put it together for me so quickly. I’ll, uh, take a look at this later. Oh, by the way, Julian, I hear the _Lexington_ is docking here for a few days.”

The _Lexington_. 

He actually felt his stomach drop. 

“Do you happen to know when?”

“Three weeks. Don’t you have a friend aboard?”

“Do I?” He desperately hoped the conversation would shift soon and Dax would start flirting with Leeta so that he wouldn’t have to find a tactful way to turn her down. 

“The Medical Officer - Elizabeth Lense.” 

“Elizabeth Lense...you know, I think she may have been in my class at Starfleet Medical.”

“Wasn’t she valedictorian?” Jadzia said. She’d clearly realised he was uncomfortable and was probing to figure out why. She was worse than Garak sometimes. 

“That’s right.”

“And you were salutatorian.”

“Second in my class,” he nodded, trying not to sound bitter. “But if I hadn’t mistaken that preganglionic fiber…

“For a postganglionic nerve. I know.”

“I would have been valedictorian,” he said. It was a habit by now to defend himself. 

“You must be looking forward to seeing her,” Leeta said, having adopted the same probing attitude as Dax.

“I can hardly wait.”

***

Time slipped past without Garak noticing. He spent a little while wondering whether to bring up Leeta, and decided it would serve to embarrass Julian sometime in the next few days. He had some level of natural worry that Julian would one day decide he’d prefer to spend his time with a beautiful young woman rather than well- him. 

But it seemed that at present, Julian was content with the way things were. Despite having to keep the relationship secret, despite Garak doubtlessly being far more trouble than he was worth, Julian would still prefer to be with him. 

He didn’t understand it. 

Thinking about it worried him, so instead he wondered whether he should mention Julian’s medical school rival, or whether to wait and see whether Julian mentioned her himself, since Garak wasn’t technically supposed to know she was coming. 

(Julian objected morally to eavesdropping, even in Quark’s.)

It didn’t take much for him to puzzle out why Julian hadn’t been top of his class, despite being genetically engineered. It would have drawn too much attention and pressure to come first, and that was a risk that a criminal couldn’t take. (That wasn’t a moral judgement on Garak’s part - he admired Julian greatly - but he was, in the legal sense, a criminal, for lying about his genetic status and enrolling in Starfleet and medical school in the first place.) 

What he didn’t know was why Julian insisted on telling everyone he met that he _could_ have been valedictorian, if only he hadn’t made one little mistake - the preganglionic nerve and the postganglionic fibre, which everyone Julian knew had been told at least once and overheard no less than twice. 

What was the point of deliberately taking second place if Julian was going to keep drawing attention to how he _could_ have been first? 

Garak’s instincts were to maintain a low profile, to do what was necessary to fly under the radar, regardless how average and insignificant he had to appear, and regardless of the bruising to his ego. Julian ought to have the same attitude, shouldn’t he?

Then again, Julian had spent quite some time in the limelight. He was a very young CMO, and second in his class wasn’t something to sniff at. Garak knew first hand how the taste of recognition- of _power_ in other people’s eyes could become addictive. 

He became uncomfortably aware of how much he wanted to drink. He wasn’t supposed to, not for a while. 

How long was a while? 

It probably hadn’t been a while yet, considering it had only been about a week and he was still craving it. His head hurt and he was tired and twitchy and he _wanted_. 

Working didn’t help. He cleared out as much of the shop as he could take for the day. Nor did reading, he discovered when he tried. He stared at the page and tapped his foot and got distracted after less than a minute. 

It was cold. His back tended to get stiff when he spent too long working in the cold of his shop. Kanar always warmed him up a bit. 

_No._

Shadows shifted on the wall. Footsteps, quieter now the worst of the broken glass had been swept away.

Oh. He’d been staring at the floor for quite some time, hand stiff around the broom. He set it aside now. 

“Good afternoon, doctor.“

“Good _evening_ , Garak.”

“Ah. I must have lost track of time.”

Julian was carefully hugging him, pulling him close so he could smell disinfectant and cologne and the unmistakable human scent of Julian himself. He panicked at first that someone might see, but they were out of sight of the doors and the Obsidian Order was gone. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Julian’s shoulder. 

He was so _tired_. 

“Cardassians don’t hug, you know. We nod respectfully to acknowledge the situation.” 

“Yes, well, respectfully, sod off.” 

Julian hugging him like this didn’t make him quite so tense anymore, unless he was already in a bad mood. He was glad Julian had kept at it; he felt comfortable, safe, warmth seeping into him from the contact.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Let’s see...” A kiss on his cheek. 

“Interesting. I’m not sure I understand.” 

Another, on his jaw. 

“You may have to speak a little louder, my dear, Cardassian hearing isn’t quite as acute as human.” 

Another, pressed gently between the ridges of his right ear. 

“Can’t say you didn’t hear that.” 

“I might be going deaf in my old age.” 

“You’re getting needy, is what you are,” Julian said, and kissed him properly. “Come on.”

“May I stay with you tonight?” Garak asked, before they left the relative safety of his shop. 

Julian frowned at him, a little confused. Usually because he was the one trying to persuade Garak to stay with him, after they’d both exhausted themselves. 

“I don’t want to disturb you. I just…” How to explain that he felt strange and cold and shaky and he didn’t trust himself to be alone for an entire night? “I can’t seem to get to sleep at the moment.”

Julian’s expression softened.

“Of course you can stay. I have some reading I want to get done.”

After Julian brought several padds with him to bed, Garak turned over to wrap his arm around his waist and soak up his body heat. 

It was warm and soft here. 

Julian absent-mindedly massaged his shoulder and Garak tried to focus on that to push down the nervous energy in his limbs, a tense energy that hadn’t gone away even after hours of working and pacing. His body was telling him quite urgently that all he needed to get rid of this uncomfortable feeling was to drink. 

Julian made an interested hum at something he was reading. He probably hadn’t even noticed himself doing it. 

“What are you reading?” Garak asked. He needed a distraction. 

“Hm? Oh, it’s a paper on Andorian Acrodermatitis Enteropathica.”

Garak squinted at the padd. It was by Dr Elizabeth Lense. He was too tired to ask Julian about her now. 

“Hm. Fascinating. What is Andorian Acro…?”

“Acrodermatitis Enteropathica. I could explain, but I thought you were trying to get some sleep.” 

Garak smiled crookedly at him. “I am.” 

Julian laughed and he felt the movement of it. 

“Alright.” And he began to talk. 

***

Once Garak was asleep, Julian returned to reading the paper in earnest. He’d read two of Dr Lense’s other works already since Dax told him the _Lexington_ was due to visit. He wanted to finish them all in the next couple of days, so he could then reread them, read the other papers she cited in her research and explore her specific areas of study in as much detail as he could. 

He couldn’t let her think he hadn’t done anything of note since being named salutatorian. He’d seen so many fascinating things on Deep Space Nine, and only had time to write up a fraction of them in any kind of scientific way. He was particularly proud of his work on the immunological project he’d been involved in on Bajor, but surely that wasn’t anywhere near as exciting as the things she’d been able to research on the _Lexington_. 

Garak whined and mumbled something in his sleep. He’d pushed up Julian’s shirt so he could rest his cheek against his skin. Julian smiled down at him. The only time he wasn’t defensive about affection was when he was sleeping. 

He still couldn’t believe that Garak was still here, that he didn’t care what Julian was. He’d spent his whole life building a shield between himself and everyone else so they wouldn’t find out, because being found out was the worst possible thing that could happen. He’d been prepared to marry Palis and never, ever tell her the truth. 

Perhaps he hadn’t been that prepared though, since he left her for a career in Starfleet. 

But the unimaginable had happened, and nothing had changed. It was difficult to wrap his head around.

Every time Garak frowned at something or looked away in a hurry, Julian wondered if that was it. If he’d finally realised he hated being with someone like him and he was thinking of a way to break things off. But it never happened. 

Garak still kissed him and slept beside him, and poked fun at him and insulted his species, and argued with him. He didn’t treat Julian like a freak. Things were the same they’d always been. 

“Don’t want to-” he suddenly heard Garak mumble as he rolled over, detaching from Julian. A frown creased his face now. 

Julian checked the clock. He’d been reading long enough that they were now in the stage of Garak’s sleep cycle where he would be dreaming. 

He seemed to have nightmares fairly often, though of course he never talked about them. Lately he’d been shifting about and mumbling every time Julian slept with him. Most of what he said was a stream of indistinguishable Cardassian syllables, but some was loud enough that it ran through the translator. 

“Don’t want to go in the closet,” he mumbled. “I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t- no, no-” 

Julian was reluctant to wake him. He’d seemed exhausted earlier. Perhaps he’d be better off dealing with a bad dream than being woken up and struggling to get back to sleep again. 

So he sat for a while, reading, and occasionally hearing Garak mutter things. 

“No, I didn’t do anything.” 

Julian turned the page. 

“Please, don’t. Uncle-” then he descended into Cardassian hisses and clicks again. 

Julian finished the paper he was reading and debated picking up another one, figuring he could get by on a couple of hours sleep and have a nap tomorrow afternoon to make up for it. Finishing the papers was a far more gripping prospect than lying unconscious for hours on end. 

“Please, I don’t know what I did wrong. Just tell me what I did and I won’t do it again.” 

Garak was getting louder. Full sentences now, things that were beginning to make sense. 

“Please, just tell me, I don’t know...no, no! Don’t leave me in here! I can’t breathe-” 

It was well past the point of being worth it to let Garak sleep. Julian gently touched his shoulder. 

“Hey. Wake up, you’re dreaming.” 

Still asleep, Garak flinched away from his touch and huddled into himself. 

“No, no- I’m sorry, please let me out, I won’t do it again. Please let me out, _please-_ ” 

“Elim.” Julian shook his shoulder, more firmly this time. 

“No!” 

Julian had only seen genuine fear on Garak’s face a handful of times, and every time it was frightening in itself. Julian touched his face and finally Garak jerked upright, his arm flying dangerously close to hitting Julian in the nose. He had to shuffle back a bit to give Garak some space. 

“It’s alright, it’s just me. You were having a bad dream.” 

Garak looked around like he wasn’t quite sure where he was, panting, sweating. He looked completely disoriented. Julian risked touching him on the arm again. He flinched, but finally looked up at Julian. 

“Elim, hey.” 

“Julian?” His voice was quiet, hoarse. 

“That’s right.” 

He wiped some sweat off his forehead. Julian waited until he seemed present and his breathing had gone back to normal before venturing a light-hearted inquiry that he hoped wouldn’t get shut down as soon as it was posited.

“You, um. You talked a bit, in your sleep,” Julian said. “You said something about a closet?” 

Garak didn’t answer for a moment. He looked up at Julian then seemed to double-take. “What? Hm. Yes. How odd.” 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Julian asked, expecting the answer ‘absolutely not’, but it was good practice to offer anyway. 

“I was a difficult child,” Garak said, quite unexpectedly. “I had to be disciplined often. Back then I could be rather...vocal in expressing my displeasure at certain punishments. I suppose if I happen to dream about it, I ramble.” 

“And these punishments included being locked in a closet?” Julian said. 

“Mm. You’re still reading?” 

The sudden change of subject was more expected. 

“Yes. I thought I’d better get it all done in one go.” 

“I thought you could read ten thousand words a minute,” Garak said. 

“Twenty, usually. Twenty-five if I’m pushing. But it’s not just about speed, there’s a lot of data to get through.” 

“Andorian Acrodermatitis Enteropathica is a passion of yours, is it?” 

“Oh, I finished that. I’m onto ‘The Effects of High Warp on Vulcans Suffering from Vestibular and Balance Disorders’.” 

“Gripping, I’m sure. Why is it so essential that you read about these things at…?”

“0400 hours? I don’t know, I just got so wrapped up in it all that I didn’t realise the time.” 

He was reluctant to rehash the valedictorian-salutatorian rivalry, especially with Garak. Once Garak got wind of something he could get his claws into, he wouldn’t let go until he was satisfied he’d wrung every bit of interest out of it. Julian didn’t feel in the mood to have his personal failures poked at right now. 

“Hmm.” Garak narrowed his eyes at him with that interrogator’s stare. He looked as though he was about to start questioning more. 

“Do you want to try going back to sleep?” Julian hurriedly asked. 

Garak tilted his head, but reluctantly, his gaze relinquished its hold. 

“If I must. Are you going to keep on with that?” He nodded to the pile of padds on Julian’s bedside table. 

“No, I think I’ll have to call it a night.” 

He lay down and found Garak wrapped around him in no time, his cold hand snaking inside Julian’s pyjama shirt to rest against the bare skin of his chest. 

“Love you,” Julian murmured, and received a soft Cardassian hiss in return.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garak gets jealous of the mysterious Dr Lense, and Julian breaks down after she snubs him. 
> 
> Lots and lots of talking!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw mild suicidal ideation, Julian's complicated self-esteem issues & internalised ableism, drinking

“Doctor.” 

…

_ “Doctor.” _

“Hm? Oh, um, sorry.” Julian hurriedly put his padd aside and looked up at Garak, who was watching him with narrowed eyes. “What were you saying?” 

“No doubt something about your terrible table manners.” 

Not once in three weeks had Julian admitted to the reason he was obsessively reading all of Dr Elizabeth Lense’s research, all the papers cited in her research - and Garak suspected he was now reading all the papers cited in  _ those  _ papers, too. He was barely sleeping, from the looks of the bags under his eyes, and he’d been calling by Garak’s quarters less and less as the date of the  _ Lexington’s  _ arrival got nearer. 

Garak was trying very hard not to force the issue, given how many of his own issues Julian had graciously not forced, and had not even alluded to knowing the cause. 

But he drew the line at Julian reading  _ her  _ research papers during  _ their  _ lunch hour. It was one of very few occasions where he felt comfortable being with Julian in public without worrying that they were raising suspicions. 

Even humans had to have  _ some  _ etiquette about that. 

“I’m sorry, Garak, I just wanted to get to the end of the chapter, um, it’s just so interesting, you see…” 

“Well, I’m terribly sorry to distract you from such a fascinating subject.” 

He was also trying very hard not to take it personally. Julian’s life couldn’t revolve around him. He was certainly familiar with Julian’s tendency to drop everything for the cause of medicine, and knew there was no use in budging him on that. His dedication to his duty was one of his most attractive traits, especially for a Cardassian. 

But this...this wasn’t that. This wasn’t duty, it was an obsession. Not with knowledge, clearly, but with the mysterious Dr Lense, his medical school rival. He wanted to impress her. 

It baffled Garak. Julian was surely the more intelligent of the two, regardless of their position in medical school. He was genetically engineered. He had to know that however clever and capable and accomplished she was, he would always be superior simply because he’d been made that way. So why was he so obsessed with proving himself to her? 

“I, um, actually…” 

It looked for a moment like  _ finally, _ Julian was going to admit what was going on so Garak could get to the bottom of this. But then he looked at Garak and sighed. Something had put him off talking about it. 

Again. 

“I’m sorry, it is very rude of me. I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.” 

Garak highly doubted he’d see Julian later. The  _ Lexington  _ was due to dock this evening.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. He had far too much work to do for him to be jealous of overspecialised scientific discourse.

With a young human doctor, who Julian was obsessing over. 

Who was probably very pretty. 

Who would probably be far better for him than Garak was. 

But he wasn’t jealous. Obviously. 

He was mature enough to accept that Julian was simply having some crisis of professional insecurity, and it was nothing to do with him at all. 

Besides, he had work to do. Most of the repairs had been done on his shop. The lights, the replicator, the doors, the ODN conduit, the bulkheads. New furniture had been fitted, and he was gradually building up a new stock of clothes to replace what he’d blown up last month. He only regretted doing it insofar as it would be more convenient not to have to remake so many garments. 

It wasn’t like he had anything else to do with his time. 

With the Obsidian Order seemingly gone for good, he had absolutely no other work to do. He wasn’t even being thrown the scraps from the table anymore. Tain was gone, and with him his only chance at going home. The life he’d given  _ everything  _ to before was gone and all he had left was a tailor’s shop on a repurposed mining station. 

This was the sum total of all the suffering and blood he put into his career. Being here was a punishment and nothing he did would ever make it feel less like one. 

He wished he’d never tasted the kind of power and influence Tain had allowed him in the first place. If he’d been left alone, if he’d been allowed a normal life where he might have become a gardener like Tolan or- or anything. Something simple and normal. He wouldn’t have minded. 

But he was an addict first and foremost, and power was as addictive as any drug he’d ever tried. 

“Constable, may I ask a personal question?” 

“Something tells me you’re going to find a way to ask regardless of whether I give you permission,” Odo dryly said. He had been stopping in Garak’s shop every day recently. Twice a day, sometimes. He claimed it was to assess the security risk.

“Do you ever think of leaving Deep Space Nine? Not to return home, necessarily, but to find work elsewhere. There are any number of people that would appreciate your particular set of skills, and any number of places where you could be afforded more power and respect than you have here.” 

Odo narrowed his eyes. “Why? Are  _ you  _ thinking of leaving?” 

Always. 

“No, not especially. I’m simply curious as to why a talented individual such as yourself would choose to remain on such a limited playing field.” Garak tossed aside a finished shirt and picked up the pattern pieces for another. 

Odo graciously pretended it wasn’t a lie. 

“I’m good at my job. I serve a purpose. Why would I want to leave?” 

“It has nothing to do with your friends here?” 

“I don’t have friends,” Odo dismissively said. It occurred to Garak that finally, he’d found someone more intent on being lonely and miserable than himself. 

“Not even Major Kira?” 

“Why do you care if I spend time with Major Kira?” 

“Perhaps I’m more invested in your personal relationships than you realise.”

“I don’t have ‘personal relationships’ and if I did, I’d thank you to keep your nose out of them,” Odo said. Garak held up his hands in surrender. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe Quark is about to set up another illegal betting ring.” 

“Ah. Good afternoon, then.” 

Odo narrowed his eyes still further and ducked out of the shop. 

***

She completely ignored him. Walked past him like he didn’t even exist. That was how insignificant he was, how unaccomplished. She didn’t even care to  _ look  _ at him. 

Julian didn’t mean to get as thoroughly drunk as he did, but one thing led to another and Miles seemed to be trying to shut him up with alcohol. It was late into the evening, after at least three attempts at Jerusalem, that he remembered he was supposed to be seeing Garak. 

“Miles, Miles.” Miles was very nearly asleep. He was sitting up, but that was deceptive. “Miles, Miles,  _ Miles.”  _

“What?” He groaned. 

“We’ve got to go.” 

“Go? Thought we agreed you aren’t gonna face her until you’re not  _ not  _ sober anymore.” 

“Yes, but we’ve still got to go because I promised Elim. I mean um, Garak. Quite seriously. I have to...give him some trousers.” 

“At 0200 hours?” Miles skeptically said. “Are you sure it can’t wait?” 

“No!” He became vaguely aware that drunkenly visiting his lover in front of his best friend was not the most subtle thing he could do. “Alright, yes. I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll give Garak my trousers and he can fix them so I look handsome and then  _ Dr Elizabeth Lense _ couldn’t possibly ignore me again.” 

“Great plan. Run it by me again in the morning when I’ve got more than half a brain, and I’ll give you a second opinion.” 

“Excellent.” Julian made a concerted effort to get to his feet again. “On a completely unrelated note, I’m going home. Immediately. Goodbye.” 

“Hmm.” 

Miles’ forehead had already become magnetically fixed to the table. He might have been snoring. 

The corridor tipped and swerved in a manner not consistent with the operations of traditional space stations. He tried to calculate what his current blood alcohol level would be, based on the alcohol content of each drink he’d had, but the numbers were getting quite fuzzy and the only answer he could conclusively give was ‘a lot’. 

She ignored him. She really thought she was so much better than him just because she had 1% higher score in the final exam. She really thought she was  _ so much better _ just because she was valedictorian, and really, how dare she? 

He was clever! He was very clever! He was clever enough to find his way to Garak’s quarters without falling over once! 

Just because he wasn’t  _ really  _ clever, not like everyone else who was  _ born  _ clever, that didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to be top of his class. He was just as good as they were. 

He  _ was.  _

“Doctor. Could this not wait until morning?” 

Garak looked quite irritated. Because he always did. Because Julian was irritating and everyone always thought so, but they were too nice to tell him so. 

“Miles said people either love me or they hate me. Is that true?” 

“Are you  _ drunk?”  _

“No. Well, maybe a little bit. But it’s for a good cause. Are you going to let me in?”

Garak sighed heavily. “Very well.”

_ “Not _ until you tell me if you love me!” 

_ “Doctor Bashir.” _ Garak hissed, and he found himself grabbed by the elbow and nearly tipped forward onto his face when Garak pulled him directly into his quarters. “What has gotten into you? You cannot just  _ say  _ things like that in the middle of the corridor where anyone could- what’s wrong?” 

Julian swayed, leaned into Garak’s firm grip on his elbow, and felt the burning of alcohol in his throat turn into a sort of choke. 

“Nothing,” he said. Or he tried to, because what actually came out was more of a whimper that he couldn’t control, and his throat was burning and his eyes were watering and shit, he was  _ crying  _ in front of Garak, how irritating and pathetic was that?

“Ah. Oh dear. Uh- sit down.” 

Hearing how uncomfortable and uncertain Garak was made him snort, which didn’t improve the liquid situation on his face. He was guided onto the sofa, where he curled up against the corner with his feet up on the seat.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me, I’ll be fine.” A handkerchief materialised in his hand and he wiped his nose. “This is so stupid. I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I actually thought-” 

He’d never seen that amount of worry and discomfort on Garak’s face before. 

“Thought what?” Garak said. 

“I don’t know. I - because I’m a self-obsessed idiot - thought I might be worthy of at least the acknowledgement that I exist, but apparently not! Apparently, the best I can expect from anyone is to be completely fucking ignored! Frankly, I should be grateful she didn’t just start insulting me right there.” 

Garak was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed, calculating. Julian didn’t like when he looked at him like that; it made him terrified that Garak was going to see that he wasn’t as good as he pretended to be. 

“I take it your reunion with Dr Lense did not go as planned, then?” He tentatively said. 

“How did you-? Oh, of course you bloody know about it, you’ve probably been laughing at me for weeks.” 

“Actually, I was trying to be considerate of your feelings. I was waiting for you to bring it up yourself. Clearly, that was a misjudgement.” 

“Clearly!” Julian said, and went back to sniffing into the handkerchief. “I mean, am I really that annoying? Am I really that incompetent that I’m not even worth acknowledging?” 

“One person’s opinion hardly defines your worth as a person.” 

“It’s not just one person’s opinion, though, is it? It’s everyone. That’s not a statistical anomaly, that’s a pattern. Even my parents hated me so much they had to get me  _ fixed  _ before they could stand to be associated with me. I was so fucking unbearable that even my own parents couldn’t-” 

He choked again and mopped up his face with the handkerchief, and there was snot on his hand and  _ that  _ was disgusting. He wished he’d brought Kukalaka with him. Miles would’ve found that weird. 

Maybe it was weird that part of him was still stuck in childhood. The part they killed in a laboratory. 

“I mean, I know I’m a good doctor. But anything I accomplish is just- it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even- I always have to hold myself back, because if I don’t, if I let people see how fast I think, how much of a freak I really am, they’ll find out. I’ll go to prison. My  _ parents  _ will go to prison. So I mean, what’s the point, really? I can never be as good as someone who got where I am without cheating.” 

He looked up at Garak; he looked vaguely panicked. 

“I don’t know what I expected you to say about any of this. Just barged in and started talking like I always do, without thinking about what was coming out of my mouth. You’d think they could have fixed that, wouldn’t you?” 

He made to get up and mope somewhere else, but Garak held him in place. 

“Wait, please. I’m just thinking. Can I get you some tea?” 

Julian just nodded. He didn’t trust himself not to start crying again.

He tried to pull himself together while Garak got up and replicated some tea. It soothed his throat, made him feel slightly less like a mess. There was a half-empty mug of coffee already on the table that Garak picked up. 

He took a while to start speaking. “I think,” he slowly began, measuring out his words with more caution than usual. “I think that someone very cruel and short-sighted has convinced you that the only virtue you have is your intelligence, and the only worth you have is gained by being better than everybody else. Am I being ungenerous in assuming your parents might have had something to do with that?” 

Julian snorted. “No, that just about sums them up.”

“In which case, you have been dealt a great injustice. You are brilliant, obviously. That is not up for debate,” Garak said, sounding like a scolding schoolteacher for a moment. 

“Thanks. I didn’t come here to beg you to compliment me, you know.” 

“I know. But it is an area in which I have clearly failed. You  _ are  _ brilliant - and passionate, and determined. Staggeringly persistent, as well.” 

“Infuriating pest, I believe you’ve said.” 

“Because I’m not used to people caring whether I live or die,” Garak said out of nowhere. “It’s easier to view your concern as a misguided overreaction than to accept that my existence means something to someone, let alone someone as good as you.” 

He didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe he should get drunk more often, so Garak would be honest with him more. Garak saw the change in his expression and put on one of his more mysterious smiles to compensate. 

“You have been unbelievably patient with me. Even when I don’t deserve it. There is a saying on Cardassia: you have the patience of the wind that works a thousand years to erode an inch of stone. It sounds better in Kardasi, but I digress.” He paused, frowning. “Where was I?”

“You were being nice to me, and I don’t know if I like it,” Julian said. 

“I am not being  _ nice,”  _ Garak said, chastising. He shifted closer on the sofa and wiped away the lingering dampness on his cheek. “I’m being  _ obvious, _ which is a thousand times worse.” 

Julian snorted and bumped him with his elbow as he leaned against him. 

“Well, I’m sorry you have to sacrifice your mysterious principles just to make me feel better.” 

“Your apology is noted.” 

He sipped the tea to soothe the unpleasant dryness in his throat, and looked around at Garak’s quarters. There were stacks of clothes and pieces of fabric strewn on the other chairs, and the wardrobe hung open with more garments hanging from the doors. 

Garak set down his coffee - which Julian’s drunk brain only vaguely computed that he shouldn’t have been drinking at 2 in the morning - and settled his arm around Julian’s shoulders, pulling him closer. 

“You know, your mind is merely a tool you have been given. What matters is how you use it. You crave recognition, of course, everyone wants to be lauded for the things they’ve accomplished, they just don’t like to admit it. But if you could have none - if you had to live in the shadows for the rest of your life, with no-one ever knowing how many lives you’ve saved, how many people you’ve helped - would you still want to be a doctor?” 

“Yes, of course,” Julian said. 

“And that is what makes you a good person,” Garak said. “It isn’t bad to  _ want  _ more. But there is a very good chance that no-one will ever find out just how brilliant you could be if you were not chained by pointless Federation laws. No-one will acknowledge the things you’ve sacrificed. And you have to accept that.”

He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as Julian.

“I know what it’s like, to feel that you need to be successful in someone else’s eyes in order to be worth something. And for ordinary people, that isn’t a problem. But for you- for us, I think...we have to live with a certain level of mediocrity in order to survive. It's safer in the shadows than the limelight." 

Julian sighed. He knew that. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, even though he knew it was the only choice he had. 

“I know. I’ve always known that this was the way it was going to be. I just...it hurts. It’s not fair, and it hurts, and I shouldn’t have to pretend to be something I’m not.”

“Quite right. It is a crime that the world is too afraid to see you. But look on the bright side, my dear. At least you’re not a tailor.” 

Garak’s eyes lingered on the unfinished clothes scattered around his quarters. 

“You really hate it that much?” Julian said. 

Something shifted reluctantly in Garak’s eyes. He was quiet for a while. Julian stayed where he was, tracing the shape of his ridged profile with his eyes and waiting. Garak didn’t usually have to think about his words. They came out in such perfectly-formed, impassioned speeches that Julian couldn’t fathom how he did it. But now, he was thinking. 

Brooding, more accurately, but Julian forgave him that. 

“Tain was the first head of the Order who lived long enough to retire,” he said after a while, keeping his voice deliberately even. “And it broke him. People like him aren’t built for it. They sacrifice everything for their duty; they have no friends, no family, they give up their entire lives to the point where dying no longer matters. Nothing matters. If they’re clever, if they do everything right, they don’t  _ allow  _ anything else to matter.”

He glanced at Julian, perhaps to gauge if he was too drunk to actually catch on to his metaphorical speeches at this point in the night, and kept talking. 

“The only thing he had was power. Power and control. A whisper here, a disappearance there, and the political tide could change completely, with only a handful of people ever realising something had happened. Wars could be won and lost by a general that no-one knew was giving the orders. It’s addictive, power like that. You wouldn’t understand; you carry the burden of being a good person. But power like that - for a man like that - is very, very difficult to relinquish. 

“He wasn’t a selfish man or an evil man. He believed he was doing the right thing for Cardassia. Always, for Cardassia. Can you imagine spending your life working for the betterment of your people, receiving no acknowledgement or gratitude, forgoing a family or a life of your own - and your only reward is power? Perhaps you don’t have the right to that power, but it’s all you have. And then that power is suddenly gone. And because you sacrificed so much to get to where you were, you don’t have a life to go back to. You have  _ nothing.”  _

Julian had forgotten what he’d asked in the first place by now. All he was aware of was that Garak was willingly showing him a bitter, dark side of himself that he usually kept hidden. Garak glanced at him again and saw his slightly blank expression.

“To answer your question, no. The work itself is not objectionable. I like the artistry, I like the company. I have always enjoyed doing things with my hands. And it is actually quite a relief not to have to answer to anyone except my customers. No, what I hate is that it is  _ all  _ I can do,” Garak said. 

“For a Cardassian, the point is not whether one enjoys the work. It is whether the work is  _ useful. _ I lived in the shadows all my life. No-one knew me, no-one knew the things I did, save for Tain. But I was good at what I did. I followed my orders and helped my people - or at least, that is what I was led to believe I was doing - and I gave almost everything to do so. I gave everything for him, for Cardassia. Thirty years, give or take. I was useful.” 

He sighed and looked out of the viewport. It was a little tic of his that perhaps even he didn’t realise he had; searching out the distant light of Cardassia among the stars. 

“And now I make clothes. That would irritate you, wouldn’t it? Wasting your surgeon’s hands stitching hems?”

He tried to imagine being barred from practicing medicine and doing that, and promptly stopped imagining it because it made him want to cry again. Because it  _ could  _ happen.

He sipped more of his tea and thought for a while. 

“Would you go back, if you could? Not to Cardassia, I mean. Obviously. To the Obsidian Order.” 

Garak sighed and leaned back against the sofa. “I am no longer capable of pretending to be the person I was required to be then. The things I had to do, the person I had to become…” He gestured hopelessly. “I don’t miss that.” 

“You just miss feeling useful,” Julian said. 

“I was raised to be nothing but a tool. Is it so surprising that now no-one wants to make use of me, I feel so...useless?”

“Your worth as a person isn’t defined by how useful you are to other people,” Julian said. He thought Garak might have said something like that earlier. “And  _ maybe- _ ” he remembered something he was thinking of but trying to word metaphorically, because Garak liked that sort of thing. “Maybe, Tain should have treated retirement not as a loss, but as a chance to have the normal life he’d sacrificed before,” he added.

“Ah, but by then he was too old and set in his ways to enjoy that kind of life,” Garak ruefully said. “Perhaps he didn’t deserve to live like everyone else, free of pain and sacrifice. Perhaps he hurt so many people in his blind dedication to his duty that he had become a monster who deserved to die miserable and alone.” 

Julian sighed. Garak could be very dramatic when he wanted to be. 

“Maybe so. But you’re not him.”

“Hmm. Fortunately for you.” 

“You’re not alone,” Julian said, pressing against him a little harder. “And if Starfleet ever finds me out, I might have to join you.”

Garak laughed. “I don’t think it’s a job you’re suited for.”

“Probably. I’m not very good at making things. My parents didn’t care much for the arts. It was always about grades. Being top of my class, being better than everyone else, being their perfect son that they could show off to the other parents.” 

“Perhaps I could teach you a few things. You’ve certainly taught me more about medicine than I ever anticipated knowing.” 

“I have? When?”

“You talk about it with such passion that it’s quite impossible not to listen. The other day you spoke about microbes for almost twenty minutes. It could have been the most elegant poetry for all I cared; to hear you speak about the things that excite you is a privilege I will not willingly cede.” 

“You don’t think it’s rude that I just go on about things?”

“Oh, of course. It’s terribly bad manners. But that has never stopped me loving you for it. And I do love you, by the way. In case being intoxicated has addled your mind so thoroughly that you actually needed to ask.” 

“Thanks. I know you don’t find it easy to say things like that. Because you’re all repressed. It makes me feel sort of special when you do.” He then felt sort of stupid, because that was quite a pathetic thing to say. He blamed being drunk. 

“You  _ are  _ special,” Garak said, like he was offended on Julian’s behalf that he’d even suggest otherwise. “You are by far the most beautiful person I have ever known.”

“I’m sure you could find a prettier boyfriend if you tried,” Julian said. Garak scowled and detached himself from Julian so he could face him. 

“Sometimes, you test my patience immensely. As does your language. What I meant was not that you are pleasing to look at, though of course you are, and I wonder daily what in the Union has possessed you to choose  _ me  _ when you look the way you do.” 

He ran his thumb along Julian’s eyebrow and down his cheekbone, the place where an eye-ridge would be on a Cardassian.

“What I meant was that the way you treat people, your kindness and patience, the way you talk about your passions, the fact that you care enough to get angry when people are treated unjustly, instead of turning numb, your infuriating stubbornness, your disregard for your own life when it comes to saving the lives of others...I would say you were selfless, too, but you’ve hoarded so many virtues that there are none left for the rest of us. That is what I meant by beautiful.” 

Julian was getting really quite tired of feeling like he was going to cry. Where did Garak get all that from? He sounded like he was describing someone else, someone who was genuinely good. 

“You see? You don’t believe me, because your language doesn’t have the proper words to convey this sort of thing. It is tragically unpoetic. But you, my love, are not.” 

He’d never called him that before.

“You can-” Julian stopped to sniff embarrassingly loudly and wipe at his eyes. “You can stop being nice now.” 

“As I said. I am not being nice. I am being obvious.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. I would say ‘any time’, but I would rather you didn’t experience this level of distress on a regular basis.” 

“Me too. Believe me, this isn’t how I wanted to spend tonight.” 

“This is what happens when you exhaust yourself,” Garak chastised. “You have been reading far too late for far too long in order to impress someone that doesn’t matter. Come to bed.” 

“Yes, sir,” Julian muttered. He swayed when he got to his feet, but Garak held him upright and guided him over to the bed. “I’m going to confront her tomorrow, you know. I’ll tell her what for. I will.” 

“Yes, my dear, I’m sure you will.” 

“Don’t condescend to me just because I’m drunk.” 

“You do it to me all the time,” Garak said. He removed Julian’s clothes for him, professional and business-like, and handed him the set of pyjamas he kept hidden in some secret panel somewhere in his quarters. 

“No I don’t. Wait, have you been drinking?” Julian suddenly asked. 

“If I had been, I don’t think you’d be in any position to judge,” Garak pointed out. 

“Fair point. Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Elim. Turning up here like this, it’s insensitive, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be helping you, and I haven’t even been here in days, and then I turn up drunk when I know you’ve got a problem-” He probably would have kept apologising for several hours and then started crying again if Garak hadn’t stopped him. 

“Hush,” Garak sighed, as he helped him dress. “I am managing it. My difficulties are not your responsibility. And besides, I think...I think your medication might be doing something.” 

“Yeah?” 

“It isn’t so difficult to get up anymore,” Garak said, his eyes averted. “I've grown used to laying there and thinking of all the ways I could ensure that I’ll never have to get up ever again. But the last few days, it’s been easier- not to avoid those thoughts entirely, but to put them aside. So...thank you.” 

“I’m glad it’s helping, but you don’t need to thank me. I barely did anything. I only gave you a prescription,” Julian said. 

Garak raised his brow ridge. “You know that’s not true. And furthermore, you are the only doctor from whom I would have accepted it.” 

“That says more about your trust issues than it does about my competence.” He wasn’t sure he liked how much Garak seemed to idolise him. Every time he said something nice, Julian felt like bracing himself for the inevitable moment when his expectations were not met and he realised that Julian was a fraud. 

“The fact that I trust you at all says volumes about your competence,” Garak retorted. “Bed. Now.” 

“I don’t like it when you tell me what to do,” Julian grumbled, even though he was doing exactly what he was told to do. 

He settled into the bed and pushed aside some of Garak’s blankets. It was far too warm in here for Julian to use any of them. The fabric felt strange against his cheek; his whole body felt heavy. He closed his eyes and sighed.

The lights dimmed and a few moments later, the bed sank beside him. He reached blindly for Garak and swatted some part of his face. He squinted and saw Garak rubbing his nose. 

“Thank you,” he dryly said. 

“Sorry.” Julian decided the best way to make up for hitting him was to kiss his nose. 

“...thank you?” 

“You’re cute when you’re confused,” Julian mumbled. 

He latched on to Garak and huddled close so he could hide his face in his chest. He felt Garak kiss his hair, and his hand slid up Julian’s shirt and rubbed his back. 

“What does it sound like in Kardasi?” Julian asked. 

“What?” 

“The thing you said. Wind and patience and a rock.” 

“Ah.” 

He recited a harsh, susurrous string of Kardasi that Julian couldn’t understand. It was a fascinatingly alien language, built mostly around different textures of clicks and hisses that sounded too complex for a human mouth to replicate. 

“I like it when you do that. Sounds like I’m really hearing you speak.” 

“You hear me speak quite often, Julian.” 

“Yes, but you’re always filtered. There’s a translator, or you’re translating yourself. I don’t know, I just like hearing you speak the way you normally would. It’s nice.”

“Hm.” Garak said something else, softer and shorter this time. It sounded like a pattern he’d heard him use before. 

“What does that mean?” 

He chuckled and kissed the top of Julian’s head again. 

“You don’t need to ask.” 

Julian smiled. “I love you too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one took me So Long. the sheer volume of dialogue I wanted to use for this chapter alone was so much to think through and edit - there was a lot i wanted to say and explore with these two and the similarities they have with regards to how they've had to lie about what they are, and how that's affected them in different ways in different stages of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry this has taken me so long to get together! for some reason this has been a difficult one to figure out everything i wanted to get across. let me know what you think, ill probably have the second half up next week sometime - alex


End file.
